Writing an Essay


I woke up this morning, wishing it was already done

I dreamt it was half-finished

But it’s not even begun

Argh, discontent. Grumble grumble. Why can’t I work? Just get it done, Shawn. Frederick Jackson Turner, go.


1 ½ pages done. So, at this rate, I will be done approximately… never.

Organized, or organic? This paper is too long to plan out beforehand. While in other classes, I had a scary intuitive grasp of things, this will require much more research. Not good. Not good at all. I’m stuck. I’m stuck I’m stuck I’m stuck…

Well well, another sentence, another half an hour. Bravo.

Slog. That is the one word that describes this. It will not get any easier men; it will be a long, hard slog through the snow. Through the white space, we will leave our footprints. The words will slowly mar the surface until I have traversed the entirety of this essay. Perhaps if you are lucky, you will forget where you are and be surprised at how far you have walked.

You’ve learned the rules already. Break them at will. Go around the mountain instead of a straight line over it. Or perhaps you have dynamite.

Good work requires good breaks. Lunch. Approximately 1/3 of the way done.

Okay, I’m back in, “I’m going to cry mode.” You can’t talk about anxiety in a paper and then not get anxious yourself. Now it’s going to take forever to get back into essay writing mode. No, it won’t. Don’t psyche yourself out.

4 ½ pages done. So, what, over half-way? Not so bad. I feel less panicky. Of course, I may feel more panicky once I have to study for my test. At this rate, I should finish by… 10 o’clock if I’m lucky.

Trying to force it again, as I move to the second half. Organic? Let it flooooowwww… (Also, time for a change of scenery.)

That break was entirely too long. Shit.

Pumping myself up! Eye of the tiger! I can do this! I can do this!!!! Rising up to the challenge…

Blather. Slog. Argh. Still trying to outline in my head. Just write, bitch. You can’t edit what you don’t have written down. Calm down. This music is too exciting. It’s making me anxious.

Ah Chopin, Now I can write.

Over 5 ½ pages done, but now I feel like I’m rushing. Do I care anymore, though? Do I really care? Fuck it, just keep writing. At least it flows to the next section a little better. I might get to drop out Empire too. That makes things easier.

6 ½ I sped up. Didn’t I? But it’s taxing. Rest again. On schedule, I think. 2 pages by 10 o’clock? Yeah, I can do that.

It’s just too much.

Don’t get discouraged. Take a couple minutes to clear your mind. Then, get another change of scenery and finish the damn thing. (But what about my other…? Focus on one thing at a time. Your first priority is to get this done. Period.)

Ave Maria

Is this song too beautiful to write to?

Hooray for block quotes!

I … I can see the end! There is but one page left. (Or two if I’m so ambitious.) It finally appears finishable. (That is not a word, but I don’t care, I’m nearing completion hooray!)

Half a page to go. Shall I talk about empire or not?

My transcendent ending is so much more interesting. Oh how I wish I had started with it. But it is too late. I tire of this affair. It is crap, but I assume other people will be crappier.